


Boiling Water and Mixing Things

by RagingCitrusTree



Category: The Wandering Inn - pirateaba
Genre: Chemistry, Death, Don’t copy to another site, Mental Illness, Reincarnation SI, science!!!, vivid imagery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 14:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20565599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RagingCitrusTree/pseuds/RagingCitrusTree
Summary: Lissa has been reborn in a new world. A world of levels, and danger, and adventure. It’s scary and thrilling and full of opportunity. So she does what she knows best. She chats with folks and gets down to SCIENCE!





	Boiling Water and Mixing Things

* * *

Summers in Baleros are either under the scorching sun in the savanna or in the jungles, with air so thick with moisture it’s like breathing molasses. Ulysses is born in the jungle, her mother drained and ill. 

“Push!” The [Midwife] cries. 

Ulysses's mother is shaking, cold despite the heat. As if something inside her is missing. Like something has stolen her warmth. She pushes, and despite her tiredness and the welcome cold around the edges of her thoughts, she screams. 

Moments later, the midwife mutters, “I-it’s a boy.”

She is born under a sun-dappled canopy to a dead mother. 

* * *

For her first year she’s half-conscious. Not really there at all. Her energy is all going towards growing and learning and she doesn’t have any left over to think. When her mind finally unclouds, she knows the two constants in her life. 

Her father, the man with broad shoulders and sad brown eyes. And her older brother, with the deep tan and salt-crusted hair. She’s the daughter of a trader, a man who, with his small crew, runs goods up and down the coasts of Baleros. 

The language is English and she is born a master of it. (Not that she really has the ability to consider that yet. Thinking is still a little hard. The problem with talking is more relearning how to use her new baby tongue than not knowing the words.) She comes into real consciousness and childhood with sea songs and swearing sailors in her ears and when she’s eighteen months old, her first word is, “Fuc!”

Her father is appalled, but her brother and her father’s crew think it’s hilarious. Her second word is, “Daddy,” which makes everybody happy.

* * *

She has a nightmare somewhere around two years old. Two and a half. It's so clear and real and she wakes up in the middle of the night, staring up at moonbeams filtering in through the reinforced skylights in the captain's cabin. Around the edges of the moonlight, the long, bony shadow monsters are flickering. She ignores them, though. They aren't real. 

Her mind isn't quite up to the task of analyzing the nightmare yet, but she does know one thing:

She is not a boy.

She's known it since forever, really. As long as she was able to really pay any attention to it. But her family and the crew don't know. And that's the scary part. She dreamed about growing up into a boy. She dreamed about being called Ulysses forever. 

If nightmares made her cry, she'd be sobbing. 

But they don't.

They make the shadow monsters come out to play and they make her freeze in fear. And they make her other emotions hide themselves away until she’s got to tell what’s in her heart by the way her body feels. They make her scared and quiet inside. 

Something from the back of her mind bubbles up, though. An old skill she shouldn’t have. It gives her the strength to think past the monsters and move. She rolls out of her hammock, lands on hands and knees on the floorboards, then wobbles up to standing. Her muscles are still too young to be stable, but the only way to get them stronger is to use them.

The ship pitches, and she goes down.

The monsters flicker around her in the shadows. Under the captain's table. In the shadows around the wardrobe. The locked chest. She flinches away from a shadow that creeps too close, but refuses to freeze in place.

That said, maybe she'll wait until daytime to practice walking.

She crawls across the captain's cabin to daddy's bed. Squeezes past the lee cloth that keeps him from falling out of his berth and crawls into bed with him. Snuggles up to his side. It’s warm outside and daddy isn’t using his sheet or blanket. Her body tucked against him, she drifts back to sleep. 

…

Lissa wakes to daddy nudging her. "Ulysses, I have to get up." She blinks herself awake, bleary-eyed and warm. She doesn't want to move. She's comfy. A few more moments, and her arms and legs have informed her that she’s comfy because she’s wrapped around her father’s waist, half-straddling his thigh. 

Daddy’s words filter in and her heart stutters. The nightmare flickers through her memory. A beard. Muscular. Deep voice. She feels sick. “‘M not Ulysses. ‘M Lissa,” she mumbles. 

“That’s a girl’s name,” her father points out. 

“Mhm.” She takes a shaky breath. Opens her eyes and stares up at him. Her pupils ache as the morning sunlight hits them through the skylights. Daddy’s still laid back on the bed, radiating warmth, and she’s a little sad at the loss of the heat but at the same time this is important. “I’m a girl.”

“Ulysses.” He looks tired. His eyes are cracked and his face is slack. But he’s slowly waking up. “You’re a boy, Ulysses.”

She shakes her head no. “I’m a girl. Like Tenir.” Her voice fumbles the name of the dullahan woman that’s all-but her mother in this world. It comes out more like “Tee-neer”, rather than the “Ten-ear” she wants her tongue to make. 

She frowns. “Tenir. Like Tenir.” This time it comes out right. 

“You. Er. You have boy parts. Between your legs.”

She shakes her head again. “Nope. They’re my parts and I’m a girl so they’re girl parts.”

He stretches his eyebrows up and the rest of his face follows. He yawns. Blinks. Rubs his face. “Okay. Lissa, was it?”

“Mhm.” She nods to really drive the point home. 

“Okay, Lissa. Can I get up, now?”

She thinks about it for a little bit. “I’m warm and comfy.”

He stares down at her. 

“... Okay. Fine.” She rolls off of him, then tugs the blankets up from where they were shoved off to the corner of the bed and burrows deep into them. 

Her father snorts. She hears him unfasten the lee cloth, then leave the bed, and refasten it. She tries to fall back asleep. 

Ten minutes later, she is unsuccessful, so she get out of the bed, waddles across the captain’s cabin, and pokes Reed through the hammock netting. 

“I’m bored.”

* * *

At three, she’s wandering around the ship when the sea is calm. Some flicker in the back of her mind makes her love the sway under her feet. Even though she doesn't really have any good reason why, she feels like there's something just out of reach. On the tip of her tongue. Just beyond her ability to put it into words.

It's been driving her crazy for _ weeks _ now.

(And her ability to put things into words has the crew and her family just a little freaked out. She learns to keep quiet because half the time she opens her mouth she sounds like a scholar. The other half of the time, she sounds like a backwoods hillbilly mixed with… something else. Her fingers twitch across an imaginary plate when she tries to put a finger on it. That’s been on the tip of her tongue, too. 

It’s like some huge revelation that’s just beyond reach. 

Either way, both styles of speech are very weird when compared to the rough talk of the sailors and the smooth cadence of her father and brother. So she's quiet. 

Which is fine, honestly. She's always been more about communicating through gesture and touch anyways.)

One early morning, Lissa is sitting on her brother Reed's crossed legs. They're at the bridge, behind the second mate. The sun is coming up behind them as Reed shows her an old drawing their father did of their mother. Not Tenir. The woman that gave birth to them.

Their mother's hair is in a tight braid and they can see just the faintest hint of slender shoulders and a loose robe. Most of her features are suggested with rough lines and shading. Her almond eyes are drawn with careful precision, though. Lifelike, with every faint sparkle captured in beautiful detail. It's pretty. 

And wrong. This isn't her mother.

The drawing puts the words she was missing right into her mind. She bursts into tears and Reed grabs hold of her, careful not to lose the picture.

She's lived a life before this one. 

Pinned against her older brother’s chest, she whispers, “Wrong… It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.”

Her name isn’t/wasn't Lissa. She doesn’t have an older brother. She has three younger siblings and a huge white dog. Her mom is alive and her dad is a scrawny runner not a broad-shouldered sailor. 

This isn’t her life. 

This isn’t right. 

But it is, at the same time.

She’s shaking and crying and eventually Reed lets her go. She rubs away tears and mutters, “Mom was pretty.” It’s something to say. A lie. An explanation. Something. 

Reed squeezes her. “Yeah. She was.”

“Can you get some water?”

Memories flood her mind. Electrolyzing iodine salt. Swinging a hammer. Defragging her hard drive. 

“Yeah. Okay, Liss’.” He pushes her off his lap and heads down to the galley.

While Reed’s gone, Lissa picks past the few sailors on the main deck, steps light and sure as she remembers why the rocking ship puts her so at ease. Sailing with her grandpa. Ducking as the boom swings over their heads each time they tack. Canoe trips up in the boundary waters. Long car rides that lull her to sleep.

She’s always loved being on the water. Or the road. Sailing. Riding. Moving. She wraps a chubby hand around a taut line and plants her butt down up at the bow, feet dangling over the edge of the gunwale. 

In the old life, she’d never been on a ship. It was always little sailing boats or a canoe or motorboat or something.

She’d dreamed about it, honestly. 

Looking out into the last dark vestiges of night, morning sun casting her shadow forward onto the glimmering waves, it’s beautiful. She kicks her heels against the railing, one hand on a line, and the other planted firmly on her seat. She wonders if this is a world she read about before. Or if this is a new one. One she doesn’t know. 

Her heart hurts.

“Lissa!” Her father’s shouting interrupts her musing and she turns and waves at him as he comes barreling out of the captain’s cabin towards her. It’s seconds before he’s sprinted the length of the ship, snatched her up, and ripped her away from her pretty view. Her arms are crushed tight against his chest and he whispers harshly in her ear, “Stay _ away _ from the edges, Lissa!”

Her hand aches where it was wrenched from the line, and her body is shivering just a little bit. Her heart is thumping in her ears. 

She sniffles and her father immediately puts her down. She looks up at him. 

He’s taller than her. Obviously. It’s been years since she was three, though, and she has no idea whether he’s actually tall or not. His hair is slicked back with wax to keep the constant breeze from blowing it into his face. Her hair is pinned back with a long hairpin for the same reason. Wax around her temples keeps the wispy baby hairs in place. 

He has broad shoulders and thick arms, and his long shirt covers all but his deep tanned hands. His eyes, for once, are wide and open enough to see rich brown pupils instead of squinty slits.

“Are you hurt?”

Lissa shakes her head and clenches her aching hand. If she opens her mouth she’s gonna cry again and then she’ll have to explain why she’s crying and won’t that be a terrible start to the day. 

This is not her father. 

This is her father.

She just wants to feel the wind on her face and lose herself in the rocking of the ship. She knows how to keep her balance and she knows not to fall into the water. If the seas were rough she wouldn’t even be up here. She'd be in the captain's cabin with Reed or belowdecks.

But this man worries about her because to him, she’s three, while suddenly, he’s _ maybe _ ten years older than her and babying her. But also he's raised her for her whole life?

This is confusing. The sun’s in her eyes and she’s distracted herself from the sadness and anger. 

“How old are you?”

Her father blinks. “Thirty-four.”

Hot damn, she was right!

There’s the distinct creaking noise of wooden steps being climbed and then by the main mast, Reed’s climbing out from belowdecks with a sloshing canteen in-hand.

Her brother rocks. 

“Reed’s bringing me water.”

Her father - dad - turns to look at her brother and she opens her aching hand to look at the red, scratched skin. That shit fucking hurts, but it doesn’t look like it’s bleeding. Just angry. 

“Can I go play with Reed?”

Dad turns back around and sighs. “Go ahead. Stay in the middle.”

As she’s running across the deck to tackle her brother, she thinks that maybe she’ll learn to like her new father. He cares, after all. But… She doesn’t want a new parent and accepting this one would be like abandoning her old ones. 

She’s pinned to the deck under her brother’s elbow when she decides she’ll try calling him Captain.

(In the end, she goes back to Daddy. It's habit and she's a little girl (but also a grown woman), so it's not weird.) 

(It's super fucking weird, why can't Captain sound good in her mouth???)

* * *

“Hey, Daddy!” Lissa calls down to her father from up in the rigging. 

She’s five now, and two years ago, she was distraught at having to replace her parents with this new man. Now… She’s okay. Not great. Shit's still weird and she's about fucking done with being babied and hearing, "When you're older, Lissa. That's too _ dangerous. _"

(It was just dilute lye. She's been handling much more caustic stuff for _ years _. And how the hell a bunch of sailors knew what she was doing with the wood ash is beyond her.)

He is just coming out of the galley with a wooden mug of tea steeped so long the mere thought of drinking it makes Lissa’s mouth curl into a bitter grimace. Her father’s expression is one brief instant of worry, then a calculating, watchful expression as he sips his morning tea and watches his two children. 

Lissa has been pushing her father's limits for years now and she can get away with a lot as long as she doesn't fuck up.

Reed is climbing after her and Velix the lizardfolk [Sailor] with the brilliant gold frill is standing underneath them both in case they fall. They haven’t yet, but there’s always a first time and sometimes when her arms are tired she’ll call out, “Going down!” And let whoever is underneath them catch her. 

She doesn’t do it with Tenir, the dullahan [Adjutant], anymore because that new bronze armor she has fucking hurts to land on. Lissa still has bruises from that ill-fated adventure and it was three weeks ago. 

(The system offered her the [Sailor] class and [Gentle Fall] for that stunt, but she declined it. Her heart is set on [Chemist]. Her brother is a level four [Sailor], though. And she’s the only one who knows.

She’s in the world of the Wandering Inn. But nobody has ever heard of the antinium or gunpowder, so she’s pretty sure she’s way before canon. It doesn’t matter honestly. She’s in Baleros. Not much to affect here.

But good fucking god, if she has to wait until she’s an adult _ again _ before she can get the class she wants, she’s gonna fucking scream.)

She glances down at her father. Looks just behind her to where her brother is climbing the rope rigging like one of the chattering little monkeys that invaded their ship a few months back. He has [Spider Climb] and is gaining on her with frightening speed. It’s silly that nobody has realized he has a class already, but here they are. 

Lissa redoubles her efforts, climbing fast enough that she’s _ definitely _risking a fall, but she has a big head-start on her brother and her efforts are rewarded when she slaps a hand on the lookout platform seconds ahead of Reed. She’s panting and out of breath and staring blankly ahead and he’s barely breathing hard but she fucking won. “Ha. Fuckin’ beat you, dork.”

Reed scoffs and punches her in the arm, right on the bone where it hurts the most.

She shrieks at him and slaps at his hand. He jerks it out of the way and her open palm slams down on solid wood. She sniffles. “Rude…”

“Get down here, you two! You're coming with me today!" Their father calls.

Velix calls up after their father, "And don't you dare drop, Lissa! Climb down like a normal person!"

Ha! 

Lissa smirks.

Normal! Pshhhh!

She peers down and blows a thick raspberry at him. He crosses his arms back up at her.

…

Reed is waiting with her father when she finally gets off the rigging and back on the deck. He’s practically vibrating with excitement and she raises an eyebrow. 

(Which looks really cute on her baby face, not gonna lie. She practiced it in the signalling mirror.)

“Dad’s taking us ashore!”

She smiled. It was the same small smile she made when she was up at the bow, hair free and tangling in the wind and the spray. Just a little smile of, "This is good. And I appreciate it." Her father says it's the same one her mom used to make, but she knows it's all hers. She discovered it in her past life, after all.

Maybe this life's mom discovered it too.

"What are we doing?"

…

It turns out that what they're doing is waiting around in a tavern with Velix while Tenir and their father work something out with a centaur [Commander] in the back room. The benches in the little common area suck. Why couldn't her father have picked a more comfortable place? Her ass probably has splinters in it and it's _ definitely _ bruised.

Also, it doesn't help that Velix has been glaring at her for like a half hour now, though, and she's frankly a little bit unnerved, not that she's showing it. Lizardfolk aren't supposed to be so… _ focused. _ She'd expected an overwhelming barrage of reasons why she isn't allowed to laugh at potential trading partners and especially not at centaurs because they're, "A very proud people, and easily take offense."

(Translation: they're all born with sticks all the way up their asses.)

(And the Charging Spears is still a stupid name. At least she didn't giggle where the [Commander] could hear her. She has some minimum of tact, after all.)

"Your frill is looking very nice today. And your claws. Did you do something different with them? Also, this is not as much fun as I thought it would be and I'm getting pretty bored sitting here. Can we go wander around the town, please? You can even come and keep us from getting into trouble, it'll be fun! I've never seen an inland town."

Velix stares at her, brilliant frill entirely still. (The faces aren't where lizardfolk express emotion. It's all in the frill. She's never seen one turn black before, since that would mean she's pissed somebody off to the point they're considering homicide. She still kinda wants to, though. From a safe distance, obviously.)

(Is it still homicide if you aren't killing a hominid? Prolly not. Prolly just murder. They're synonyms anyways.)

Velix doesn't move a bit. "I found a new scrub for it. It's gentler on the smaller scales. My claws are exactly the same as always. You can't wander the town, and it's already my job to keep you from getting into trouble. There will be time to explore when Tenir and Captain Elliot get out of their meeting."

She gives him a blank stare.

"Rude."

He has no response. 

If she weren't in the body of a five year old, she could probably bolt. The door is like… a few yards away. She could totally make it there and be out into the street before Velix reacts. Then, she’d poke around a little bit, get bitched out when somebody inevitably caught up to her, and be confined to the ship for another year. 

… On the other hand, if she weren't in the body of a five year old, she'd probably be in the meeting herself, and she's kinda terrible at the whole diplomacy thing. She knows how to talk to folks and knows how to be friendly, but all that diplomacy shit? Nah.

(Especially not diplomacy with centaurs. They're a bunch of violent prima-donnas and she's not here for it.)

She looks around the tavern, for lack of anything better to do. It's a centaur tavern, obviously. Rather than a tavern made for humans and dullahans, who like private rooms, or lizardfolk, who prefer multiple-level spaces, the tavern has one broad ground floor and no upper or lower levels. The few walls in the place separate the one or two private rooms and the inventory from the big main room. Even the cooking happens in the main space, a kitchen area set up against one of the long walls. That's the only part of the tavern floor that's stone rather than wood flooring and soft rugs.

The tables are widely-spaced, broad, and tall. Even laid down, centaurs are almost at head-height for all but the tallest bipedal species. Their tables are broad just to fit each centaur against them, and also to fit the prodigious amount of food centaurs have to eat to sustain themselves. There are a few high chairs stacked against the walls, but for the most part, the few non-centaurs eating here are just standing.

The smells of centaur foods fill the place. Mostly frying meat, but there's a few fragrant fruits included.

By the time the meeting is over, the breakfast crowd has come and gone and the barkeep is wiping the widely-spaced tables off as the lunch crowd starts to filter in. He swaps the rugs that centaurs use instead of chairs out for fresh ones.

First comes the centaur. An old stallion with leather armor all over. The doorways are built tall for the centaurs that come here. (Which explains the seats and why daddy picked this place.) Still, this guy is taller than most. At least ten feet tall. He has to duck on his way out. 

Next comes Tenir, bronze armor polished to a shine like it has been since she got it. (If she didn't polish it, it would tarnish and she'd be green and pitted.) Her pale hair flows freely behind her and the high collar keeping her head on straight makes her look vaguely noble. Like a warrior queen. She looks over at Lissa and Reed and Velix and smiles.

Finally, daddy walks through the tall doorway and closes it behind him. He's got a leather bag (presumably full of important documents) slung over his shoulder, and a satisfied look in his eyes. His hair is still slicked back, though constantly wiping sweat off his face has let a few hairs escape. 

Lissa waits impatiently for the [Commander] to leave the tavern, then jumps up, dodges Velix’s grabby hands, runs up to her father, and hugs him. “Hi daddy.” She sticks her tongue out at Velix, who looks absolutely exasperated. His frill is fluttering around the edges, barely a sign of a passing thought on most lizardfolk, but Velix is always in control, with a casual, friendly demeanor whenever he’s around other species. He takes a deep breath, then smooths his frill down. Lissa ignores the look he tries to send her because fuck putting up with his crap.

Butthead. 

“Can we get nali-sticks?” Lissa asks.

Reed jumps up from that awful bench. “Yeah! Nali sticks!”

Tenir smiles down at her. “And limons for you, Lissa?”

Lissa nods. “Mhm.”

Reed gives her a disgusted look. She sticks her tongue out at him and calls him a philistine. 

“I still don’t know what that word means so nyeh!”

She mourns the chemical candy of her old world. Especially lemonheads. Nali sticks are almost as sweet as back home, though, and limon juice is so sour. It’s nowhere near the crunchy glazed balls of citric acid and lemon oil and corn syrup, but it’s the closest she’s likely to get. 

There’s a lot she misses, actually.

…

She’s still thinking about all the stuff she’s lost when the party comes to an abrupt stop outside of town. Reed ate his candy pretty much as soon as he got it from the iridescent lizardfolk girl they bought it from, but hers are in a soft cloth bag at her hip along with the limons, one of which she’s peeling to eat. 

Lissa looks up from the sour turquoise fruit when the sound of Reed sucking the sugar off his fingers stops. Velix is in front of them, the gold in his frill is gone, deepened to a black so dark she can’t see the pattern of his scales. It’s flared back as if to hide her and Reed from whatever’s up ahead. 

The air is hot and humid with just a hint of sea breeze, but she feels cold. 

Looking between Velix’s arm and torso, she sees daddy and Tenir just a little up ahead. Even farther down the rutted dirt road, there are three dullahan with dull gray armor, and one with armor that gleams in the shadows. They have maces and one has a longbow dangling from his fingers. They look bored. 

Daddy and Tenir have their hands near the cutlasses each wears at their hip. Daddy is saying something. 

“We’re just passing through and don’t want any difficulties. Would you step aside and accommodate our use of the road?”

The shiny dullahan doesn’t move, but she’s the one that speaks. “Unfortunately, there is a toll for the use of this road.”

Daddy’s hand twitches in a series of incomprehensible signals to Velix, who turns around and blocks Lissa’s view. He’s crouching in front of them and she hears Daddy say something about gold or price or something, but Velix is hissing urgently and so quickly that he’s starting to sound like a snake. 

“— hold onto my front, and Reed, you need to hold onto my back. The Captain and Tenir can take care of themselves if this gets violent, but if that happens, I’m going to take you both and run for the trees. When I get there, I’m going to throw you into them and then climb up after you. Do you two understand me?”

Lissa was halfway paying attention, but nods. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Reed nodding too. 

“Okay, you two. Climb on now.”

Reed climbs on first, while Lissa tucks her half-peeled limon into her hip pouch, then climbs on after he’s situated. 

Velix stands without any trouble. Even if he doesn’t have any strength skills, he’s a sailor. He hauls on thick lines and climbs up and down rigging all day. He’s strong. And Lissa and Reed are hardly a burden. Lissa clings tight to the back of his neck and feels Reed pressing his forehead against her hands. 

Velix’s frill is trapped between her body and his chest and she can feel the tension on it. It’s gotta hurt to have her tugging on it but Velix doesn’t say anything. Just stands, facing the dullahan [Highway Robbers]. Around them, the forest is filled with the sound of bugs and birds and various other animal sounds. It’s… wrong. Something this tense deserves silence, but to the jungle, this is business as usual. 

Lissa can’t see anything but Velix’s black-black frill and some glimpses of green to either side. She’s pressed against his chest to bring her weight closer to center for him. His frill is so black that they should be invisible, but from this close she can see individual scales. They still shine a little bit. Velix likes to shimmer. 

She can’t smell anything but the loam and Velix’s dry, subtle lizard scent. It’s cut with seawater. She hears arguing, then the heavy thudclink of a money pouch. 

It’s terrifying not knowing what’s going on. Velix’s arm is wrapped under her butt and it’s as solid as steel, and that firmness is reassuring. But she can still feel her heavy chest. Still feel the way her skin has gone all clammy and the way her fingers tingle. 

She can hear Velix’s fluttery heartbeat where she’s pressed against him. It’s always a little quick, but it’s not helping here. It’s making her more scared because, for almost thirty years now, a quick pulse means nervousness and fear. Excitement, when she’s already scared. Badum-badum-badum-badum. 

An interminable time later, Velix starts walking. She never heard Daddy or Tenir call out so she assumes that they signalled to Velix. 

He doesn’t put her or Reed down for the entire walk back to the ship, and she ends up falling asleep against his chest before they even get close. 

[Connoisseur Class Obtained!]

[Connoisseur Level 1!]

[Skill - Discerning Taste obtained!]

She wakes up just long enough to mutter, “No, no, no.”

**[Level Up Cancelled]**

**Author's Note:**

> Lol this is self-indulgent self-insert stuff but I’mma have fun with it. I hope you all got some enjoyment out of it too. I love this genre of fic and I am thrilled that one of the first few TWI fanfics is gonna be a self-insert. 
> 
> [insert gleeful cackling here]
> 
> This is set in Baleros something like uhhhh 20-40 years prior to canon. I worked out the exact number at one point and then forgot it. Eh. I’ll fix this when I bother to look up my notes. 
> 
> Expect mad science and awkward small talk and intermittent angst going forward. This IS fanfic, after all. 
> 
> Leave a kudo and a comment to tell me what you think! Hit that subscribe button if you want notifications for when I update this thing!


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